Page 10 of Safari Murder Party
Maybe reciting the itinerary in her sleep could be Fletcher’s party trick.
Assuming Dyer let her attend the party.
The headlights of three black SUVs sliced across the tarmac right on cue. Fletcher roped her thrifted Longchamp bag over the handle of her rolling suitcase, centering herself. Familiar figures climbed out of the cars, varying sizes of to-go lattes clutched in their hands, as shiny-vested worker bees migrated luggage onto the jet.
None of her coworkers dressed like they were going to a privateisland—all tailored blazers and starched shirts. Fletcher wasn’t much better. Her pencil skirt was, like, 70 percent rayon and 100 percent overdressed for the Southern Hemisphere summer they were headed toward.
At the back of the pack, Dyer took slow, deliberate steps with the rest of the C-suite, their heads craned together conspiratorially. Today, he wore an ecru suit with a pale blue shirt, the top unbuttoned, and wing tip loafers. His grandfather’s ivory cane tapped against the asphalt.
Fueled by caffeine and spite, Fletcher marched across the tarmac.
One flash of her Cartwright Media badge had been all it took to get access to their terminal. Turned out, there were a few perks to being Dyer Cartwright’s right-hand woman. She was going to walk straight up to Dyer, and she was going to give him a piece of her—
“Miss Spence,” he said casually. “Enjoying your morning?”
Fletcher’s eyes widened, but she trained her voice to stay even. To sound like she definitely wasn’t surprised at howunsurprisedhe was by her being here. “Yes, thank you. And you?”
“Delightful.” He nudged his glasses back up his nose. The others finished boarding, leaving Dyer and Fletcher alone on the runway. “I don’t recall extending you an invitation.”
“Um, that’s…true.” Panic clenched Fletcher’s heart. The whole speech she’d practiced about her infallible work ethic and devotion to the company? Vaporized from her memory.
Wreathed in dawn’s muted gray and the flashing airport lights, Dyer’s clip didn’t slow on her behalf. “Why are you here?”
“To go to Lydell.” She really shouldn’t have pounded that Americano before she came over. The lights started to swim. Her pulse did laps around 100 bpm.
Dyer nodded. An acknowledgment more than a consideration. Fletcher had seen that look on his face plenty of times before.
Something about the familiarity settled Fletcher’s stomach. This was part of her job. And even if the rest of Fletcher’s life was falling apart, she could do her job. “In the three years I’ve been with Cartwright Media, I believe I’ve proven myself an invaluable asset to the team.”
Nodding, Dyer didn’t hesitate. “Most certainly.”
She reached into her bag and snagged her Canon. “You know how much I loveJet-Setter. Taking photos for your grandfather’s magazine is my dream. I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I can join the staff. I’m a good assistant, but I could be a better photographer.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Dyer said.
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re anexcellentassistant. Have you considered I’m not ready to say goodbye to you?”
Well, no. She hadn’t.
Dyer pivoted. The sudden severity of his stare stopped Fletcher in her tracks.
“I’ve got to give it to you. You’ve got gumption. I’ve always appreciated that about you, Miss Spence. You wouldn’t have lasted a second at my company without it.”
Her thoughts spun. Gumption was good, right? He wasn’t firing her. Right?
“It’s one of the many traits I look for in new hires. Tenacity. Determination.”
Yes.Yes.Finally, she was being recognized.
Dyer stroked his chin. “Interesting indeed.”
“I could take photos,” she said, clutching her camera to her chest. “Document the trip. For my portfolio. You don’t have to decide now—all I’m asking for is the chance.”
“Oh, that…” A hum. His steel-enforced gaze trained on her camera. “I’m afraid that would be quite burdensome.”
Before she could stop him, Dyer hooked his cane around Fletcher’s camera and swatted it to the pavement. He dug his heel into the lens with a horrifying metallic crunch. Fletcher sucked down a single gasp, shock coiling at the base of her throat.
